Why One Shouldn't Spill Cake on Other People
by Fiona3210
Summary: Also known as "Why America Shouldn't Make Canada Angry". A silly little one-shot for America's (and Canada's) birthday. What else is there to say besides happy birthday, you two!


The phone rang once, twice, thrice, so many times that the blue-eyed blonde making the call was starting to wonder if the person on the other end was ignoring him. He hoped they weren't. He hoped that they just weren't answering because they were busy and not because they were still mad at him. He hadn't meant to coat them in cake, honest! It was just that their damn bear–whatever its name was– had decided to walk in front of him right as he was carrying it over and then one thing had led to another and _he had apologized, hadn't he?!_ His mind was jumping around so much he couldn't remember.

It didn't help when the call went to voicemail. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, Canada, it's me, America! I was wondering if, well, uh, if wanted to, uh hang out today or something? If you aren't busy. Well, yeah, um, anyway, see you later! Hero out!" America chuckled nervously to himself. What if his brother was ignoring him out of spite? After all, it was America's birthday today and he still wasn't sure if he had ruined the other's. What if this was his way of getting back at him?

 _He wouldn't do something like that,_ one part of his mind scolded at this train of thought. _He's not_ that _petty._ But what if he was? America hadn't planned anything for today, thinking that he'd just have a quiet-ish day with his family (or at least the part of it that didn't get drunk and starting cursing him out whenever July came around), maybe even see some fireworks or something. They were one of his favorite parts of the holiday. There was nothing like a good set of colored explosives lighting up the night sky to brighten a down mood. Unless, of course, you went by yourself, which America was hoping he wouldn't have to do.

It always made him feel miserable when he went by himself.

A few hours later and America had tried calling about... a lot of times. How many times is a lot? No idea, go count them yourself. Anyway, this amount of missed calls had thoroughly convinced America that Canada was ignoring him. Why he didn't just logic it out to that _maybe_ he was driving down and couldn't answer the phone because he was a serious goody-two-shoes at times, nobody knows. But this lack of thinking had caused America's mood to plummet. A lot. And it must be because of this that dark gray rain clouds were currently rolling in.

He sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. Usually, he would just play a video game with Tony until anything that was particularly upsetting him was pushed into a deep, dark corner of his mind, but the alien was away on 'business' and wouldn't be back until next week. And he had taken America's cat with him. Damn. Still...

A while later, a groan echoed throughout the house as its occupant shut his eyes and flopped backwards onto the couch, his nagging thoughts catching up with him _again._ Why couldn't his mind just leave him alone today! It wasn't like anything was going to happen today!

Nantucket suddenly twitched, just as a cat's tail would, upon hearing a muffled ringtone coming from nearby. America sat up, searching for his phone out of the mess the room had suddenly become (Had it always like that? He hadn't noticed.). Finding it, he answered and brought it up to his ear, not bothering to check who it was.

 _"Where are you?_ _"_ the man on the phone demanded, his voice furious but soft enough that America could barely catch it.

"What? Speak up, won't ya?"

 _"Where_ are _you? I've been waiting outside for the past ten minutes!"_ A confused look shot across his face as he opened the front door to be greeted with Canada standing there with his cell against his ear, looking extremely annoyed. "About time," he huffed, hanging up.

"You came?!" It was more of a question than a statement.

"Of course. Now what did you have in mind?" A slight, humored sort of smile crept its way onto Canada's face at America's blank 'thinking' expression. The expression suddenly changed as his eyes lit up and he darted back into the house, claiming that he'd only be "Just a minute!".

It was, in fact, closer to ten, before he came back out, and by this time Canada had invited himself in and was currently fixing the mess on the couch that had been formed while America had been getting aggravated over both real life and the game he was playing, the former not helped by the latter. America took this opportunity to dart out and place what he was carrying out in the car and dart back in all while his brother's back was turned.

"Are you ready?" he asked, as if Canada had been the unprepared one.

"Yeah, just give me a moment." With a final throw, the room now looked like a sea of mess surrounding a lone island of clean. In other words, perfect.

That word could be used to describe the rest of the day. By the time Canada had arrived, it was mid afternoon, so the duo had gone around doing various things for a few hours, including getting ice cream, going to a carnival, saving the world from zombies, eating some potentially poisoned cupcakes, the stuff that typically happened whenever they got together. And the night had gone pretty well too. America had dragged Canada to seeing the town's firework show and that had been as uneventful as a huge gathering with many people in a park to see fireworks could be, but it was still fun besides that one obnoxious Englishman.

They arrived back at America's place late that night, Canada needing to drive them home due to America running himself empty like a child. And even though he kept denying it, the signs were just as obvious as they would be on a child.

"We're here," he announced. America clambered out, yawned, and stretched, before grabbing the stuff in the backseat and dropping them next to the couch. He could fix the mess in the morning. He was about to trudge off to bed (Canada knew where the guest rooms were, he had stayed over often enough), when the mention of cake from the typically-invisible one caused him to dart into the dining room, fully awake. The other blonde chuckled and promised he'd be right back with it, going to fetch it out of his car. The self-proclaimed hero could scarcely sit still choosing to jump up and wait by the entrance to the room.

Little did he know that this was a bad idea as Canada stumbled, slipped, and finally tripped, sending the cake flying directly onto America. A pause, and then laughter rang out into the room. Of course, whether this was an accident or an ultimate revenge scheme was up to debate. It was unlikely that either of them particularly cared at the moment, though.

* * *

 **Cheesy ending is cheesy ending. Nothing much to say here, besides that this was not my original plan for the yearly America fic, but my original plan sort of went from being a fanfiction plot to an original work, so... yeah. I like this for the most part, though, so yeah. Happy birthday America! Enjoy that cake!**


End file.
